"Subjugated and imprisoned?" Claire challenged, standing up to force herself to pace. She should have been pacing for days... why had she stopped pacing? Why had she not asked sooner? What the fuck was wrong with her?

"Come here."

Her barked answer was immediate. "No."

She needed to go back to the status quo, to remembering to hate the father of her baby, not to admire his body... never to allow pleasant feelings for him. She should be wishing him dead, not prizing his attention. Wringing her hands, she marched, pointedly ignoring the giant rising from his chair to subdue her.

A meaty hand locked on her shoulder atop the claiming marks Shepherd had inflicted and tended each day. The discomfort of compressing tender flesh made Claire wince. She pressed her lips into a line and refused to look. Heat rose from his body, seeped into hers, and the smell—the necessary scent—forced her to close her eyes and focus to maintain defiance against a man who was her foe, not her lover.

"You will cease this at once." His voice was not hard.

"I will not."

His tone dropped considerably, it promised things. "Little one..."

Trying to shrug out of his grasp only enticed Shepherd's anger.

That was good, wasn't it? He had been too gentle, pretending he was not a beast who imprisoned and poisoned her. She needed to see the dragon, to hear the angry growls, to feel the thread buzz badly out of tune.

The fan of black lashes lifted, she looked him dead in the eye. "I will not stop."

"Your fear of change and this acting out is beneath you."

Frustrated, Claire clenched her fists. She wheezed.

A voice dripping reason came from lips that had tasted every inch of her skin. "If you wish to mate, you do not need to pick a fight to justify your desire to yourself. That is what you are doing, little one, expecting that my reaction will be to respond by mounting you—because you do not want to acknowledge that you are already wet and ready."

That was not what she was doing! Was it? A look of horror came to her face when she realized that she did smell of slick, that she was incredibly aroused... but she was also angry. She put her head in her hands, to hide her face, wishing she could just explode. "You do not understand me at all!"

"Then tell me what the point of this tantrum is?" he challenged in a mellow voice, still refusing to show the anger she wanted so badly to foster. "There will be no change to the Omega situation. You know that. I know that. Conversation on the topic is pointless and basely inflammatory... you desire my reaction, and we both know what you want me to do."

Claire started yanking on her hair.